That Damned Letter
by Fizzylizard
Summary: A brief look at the Dursley family immediately following the Best Kept All England Suburban Lawn competition.


Disclaimer: All characters, places, situations etc © JK Rowling. I'm only playing with them, so I'm getting no richer from this than any of you readers. Please review and tell me what you thought, and if you plan on criticism then please be constructive.

i> That Damned Letter

By Fizzy the Lizard

'"Harry, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry –"

"They won't," said Harry.

" – that you're safe –"

"That'll just depress them."

" – and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?"

Lupin smiled but made no answer.'

Pg. 53 Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (British edition) /i>

Vernon Dursley stamped, in his usual heavy way, into his kitchen, and flung his black suit jacket over a chair. He was not at all amused. When he found out – and there was no doubt he would find out – which young hooligan had sent them that blasted letter about the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition, there were going to be i>words /i>. He might even complain to the local council. Or write a good long letter about it to send in to the papers. Yes, he would, now he thought about it. A stern letter would teach those blasted hooligans not to play such stupid pranks. He rather enjoyed writing angry letters to the paper.

Petunia's mouth was a very thin line. She began to fiddle with the potato peeler she must have left lying on the bench (though she couldn't remember leaving it out), opening the drawer and closing it again, opening and closing without putting the peeler away. All the while, her mouth kept on getting thinner and thinner, but she didn't speak. She just stared out into the darkness through the kitchen window, daring someone to do something even slightly inappropriate so she could see it.

Dudley wandered in and went straight for the fridge. He was a growing boy, their Dudley, and he needed his food if he was going to keep on with his boxing. He was, in fact, growing so much that the seams on his suit jacket were straining against his shoulders and elastic of his bow tie could not stretch any further. Since there was nothing interesting in the fridge, he settled for a cheese sandwich. This cheese sandwich was, however, about half the size of his own head.

"That boy must have had something to do with it…" Vernon muttered to himself. It was standard practice in the Dursley household to blame their nephew Harry (more commonly referred to as 'boy') for just about everything that ever went wrong. He was usually behind it, and when he said he wasn't he couldn't explain it, so he must have been lying. The boy was rotten from the inside out. He also happened to be locked in his room. "Where is he, anyway? Not like him to be out of the way – he's usually skulking around somewhere…" Vernon stood up and bellowed "BOY! GET DOWN HERE!"

There was no answer. Five seconds later, there stubbornly continued to be no answer. Vernon began to feel more than a little annoyed. "BOY! IF I HAVE TO DRAG YOU DOWN THESE STAIRS…"

Dudley, still chewing, put down the sandwich. It had now been reduced to about a third the size of his head. "Dad! Dad, look!"

On the kitchen table, there was an envelope, neatly labelled Vernon and Petunia Dursley. It was made of parchment. Not a good sign. Vernon and Petunia Dursley had learnt not to trust anything that came in an envelope made of parchment. Given a choice, they wouldn't even trust the envelope. On the bright side, at least this one wasn't shouting at anyone yet. The last mysterious letter to arrive in the Dursley household had nearly set the table alight. "Erm, Petunia dear…"

He opened the letter and pulled out the single sheet of parchment inside. He was fully expecting it to explode in his hands, or at least do something strange enough for him to dislike. With Petunia reading over his shoulder and Dudley trying to get a good look at it from under his other arm, he began to read.

i>Mr and Mrs Dursley,

You may have noticed by now that your nephew Harry isn't answering when you call him. This is partly because he seems to dislike you for some reason I'm not going to speculate about here, but mostly because he is not actually in the house.

He's perfectly safe, so please don't worry on that account. You have my word that he won't be harmed by any of us. He knows who we are, and he certainly knows me. Professor Dumbledore felt that the time had come to remove him temporarily from Privet Drive so that he could attend the disciplinary hearing, which I'm sure you already know about by now, as I understand there has already been some communication on the matter. Owls swooping into your house, while not too pleasant from your perspective, would have made the news fairly obvious. You don't need to worry about anything concerning Harry – it will all be taken care of, and he will get to school on the date he is supposed to, with all of his belongings and all of his limbs. You may not have realised this, as your experience of magic is fairly limited, but magic is not entirely destructive.

He'll be back in your care next summer. If he is mistreated in any way during this time, I promise you we will know. If he is not, then we should have quite an amiable relationship. Hoping this causes you no insurmountable problems

Regards,

R. J. Lupin /i>

Mysterious letters, disappearing nephews (though this was not so much a problem as a minor irritation at the fact that the wretched boy had managed to get away without them knowing) and polite regards from some freakish man with abnormal powers and a silly little stick. It was all too much. It really was.

Vernon resolved to avoid looking at the letter until it went away. They always did…eventually. His hands curled into fists, crumpling the parchment into a tight ball. There would be no more ridiculous letters in this house. Not one more letter from those people would ever make it over the threshold of Number 4 Privet Drive. He would make sure of that…and when the boy returned, he was going to be in the biggest trouble of his life.


End file.
